What really happens after death? Nobody has a definitive answer to that question, because honestly, no one truly knows. Among the more prominent beliefs out there, there's this idea about two distinct paths—one leading to paradise, the other to eternal suffering. Heaven and Hell. Two sides of the same cosmic coin.
Look, this is just the rambling of someone who's probably lost their mind, so like everyone else, you can ignore what I'm saying. But if I were ever forced to pick between those two options... I'd choose neither. Because there was never really a choice to begin with.
If paradise actually exists, nobody's making it there. Not a single soul.
Most people think sin is the only obstacle standing between us and that perfect afterlife. But that's completely wrong. Sin isn't the barrier—it's what we fundamentally are that creates the problem. Humans. Insatiable creatures born with this innate hunger for more. We're always craving something beyond our reach. It was designed that way, programmed into our very essence. This inherent disadvantage makes surviving the journey to paradise an absolute impossibility.
Greed defines us. Even the kindest, most compassionate humans possess this underlying hunger, and that very greed is what gives birth to the sins we blame for our downfall. Sin isn't the root cause—it's what we are at our core that creates the problem.
But none of that matters anyway, because paradise and hell don't actually exist. What does exist is something I've come to call the Limbo of Souls. Reincarnation.
Yeah, I didn't believe it at first either. But now I don't just believe it—I've come to absolutely dread it. It's this endless cycle that all souls pass through to earn their ticket to reincarnation. For some reason, though, my soul keeps getting rejected.
It happened once. Then twice. Three times. And somewhere along the way, I lost count of how many times I've stood before the Keeper. Sigh. I've grown hollow inside.
I've passed through the devices of fate for longer than I can remember, inhabiting multiple entities, hoping that by cleansing what they call my "karmic debt," I might eventually be accepted into the cycle. But no. The same thing keeps happening. The rejection. The devices. The tragic death. The restart.
Each time, it chipped away at my essence, my very being. And now, after everything I've endured, I stand here one last time, staring at the Keeper with blank, hollow eyes. I no longer want to be reincarnated. I just want it all to end.
"You have returned once again," The voice cuts through the silence. I look up.
"Keeper..." I mutter, my voice barely audible.
"Young one, you still owe the fates a considerable debt. You cannot pass," the Keeper responds.
"That doesn't matter to me, anymore... What I know is why you've been messing with my memories," I say, exhaustion weighing down every word.
"Oh..." Suddenly, a crack appears in the cosmos, revealing a sinister grin. It's always been this way—I've never actually seen the Keeper's form, just a silhouette against the backdrop of the universe.
"You remember," the keeper said, "Well... it makes no difference." The arrogance behind those words was unmistakable, clearly stating my helplessness in plain terms.
I remained silent. At this point, I no longer cared about what happened to a soul unable to pass through the cycle—let it all happen. I had reached the lowest point any being could reach, a place where the urge to live was overshadowed by countless horrific memories that constantly broke me down.
It wasn't just about the horrifying deaths I have been through. It was the fact that I had always been a slave. In truth, everyone not of higher standing, of greater power—anyone not possessing the status of gods—was merely a piece on a chess board. But even then, there were special pieces: the knights, bishops, rooks, queens, and kings. These were pieces of value, pieces a player favors above the pawns.
I wasn't any of those. Through all this cursed reincarnations, tranmigrations and whever the fuck I was put through, I had never had such a fate. I wasn't even a useful pawn. I was a disposable pawn—the piece a player sacrifices for amusement at the very start of a chess game. One of those pieces positioned in front, the ones with no real meaning, barely even considered by the player. A fleeting move designed only to throw the opponent off balance.
"Enough of this. I know this isn't the first time I've wanted this to end, only to be brainwashed into starting over again," I continue. At this point, I've started suspecting that the Keeper is intentionally preventing my reincarnation. Not that it matters anymore.
"Interesting," the Keeper says.
"Fine. Tell me, what do you wish?" it asks.
"I wish for you to end this. Wipe my memory, erase me completely—I don't care. Just make me disappear." I've already lived through so many lifetimes that I've been traumatized beyond repair. No, I've been completely broken. This is it. I no longer want to remember any of it.
"Fine," it says. "But you will be reincarnated one final time."
"I'll kill myself if you reincarnate me," I state plainly.
"It seems you don't want freedom."
"I don't care," I respond.
"YOU WILL GO." Those three words resonate through my very being.
"I won't play a part in whatever scheme you're running. Just end this," I plead.
Then suddenly, the Keeper grins. Another crack appears in the cosmos.
"Oh? But it's too late."
[Ding!]
Something materializes before my field of vision. An interface.
[Attachment successful]
Wait. In all my reincarnations through the devices of fate, I've always encountered this type of interface.
[Attachment process: 1%]
and the number progressed with every reincarnation.
Wait. No.
"It's already complete. You have no choice."
"What do you want from me?" I ask, unable to understand why the Keeper seems so fixated on my soul.
"You will learn. Truly learn."
"ARGH!" The pain hits so suddenly—so unexpectedly—that I can't comprehend what's striking me. Agony. Once again. Something is forcefully tearing my soul apart.
"You will be reincarnated into the playground of gods. Your mission is to oversee my return," is all I hear before darkness claims me completely.